A/N: Chapter is live! :)

Dear Old Dad,

It took me an absurd amount of time to figure out what it was I wanted to write here. See, I not so cleverly decided to take some time off before I wrote the letter, and in my defense, it really seemed like a sensible idea at the time. I even decided to oh-so-cleverly call it 'brainstorming', because making excuses to justify my laziness is just second nature at this point. It's just who I am, and I might as well accept this after fifteen years of enjoying the same nonsense. Anyways, I somehow managed to completely forget about it . Quite a surprise, I know. I'm still reeling from the shock.

So, here I am, hastily scribbling a letter at two in the morning while desperately hoping mum doesn't realize what I've done. The candle is burning out fast, though, and I think mum will eventually realize that my room is unusually dark. And since the towel I rolled and spread at the bottom of the door will probably be pushed out of the way by the lady of the manor soon, I might as well try and finish this. Maybe it won't read as half arsed as it looks, and they'll pass it around at my funeral.

First of all, I have no idea what I'm doing. I honestly think that this letter is just a complete waste of my time and my ink. Why do I absolutely HAVE to write this if I'm just going to burn it anyways? I'm not judging people who've done this and walked out feeling better about themselves, but how is writing a letter to an absent father and burning it supposed to help me feel better about anything? It's just so f- no, not going to curse. It's stupid, that's what it is. If I was really upset at someone for abandoning me, I'd probably only feel better about the situation if I set setting said person on fire. NOT THAT I WOULD, OBVIOUSLY. I know setting people on fire is bad. I was just trying to be funny, honest.

Now, where was I? Right, writing the letter. Well, I postponed writing this for as long as I possibly could without it affecting me. Maybe it was me thinking that this whole thing was useless. Maybe there's some deeper meaning behind my laziness this time that Mrs. Fawcett would be quick to notice and dutifully point out to me. She'd say something annoying, like maybe I was just afraid of what I would uncover about myself when I wrote the letter. Hm. Now there's something to think about. Maybe that last bit is actually true.

Well, like taking off a bandage, these things sting less when done quickly. So…

I guess I didn't do the letter because I was waiting. Waiting for something in my life to change this summer. Maybe I'd finally get a letter explaining why you've never been here. Maybe a parcel would arrive carrying presents and a belated birthday card. I don't know. Maybe the phone would ring, and I'd get to hear your voice for the first time in my life. Or maybe you'd show up one day at our doorstep, and I'd get to look into the same colored eyes that people everywhere love to praise. I really don't know…I mean, it's been fifteen years. Why would anything change?

Maybe Bug's mentality has rubbed off on me. She's just so enthusiastic and optimistic about life. I guess when you spend most of your days with your nose buried in books you don't realize how awful the real world really is. She really believes that everyone is capable of redemption. That if you try hard enough, you can just undo the mistakes you've made and it all gets better. But that's not how it works, is it? I don't have the heart to tell her that sometimes bad things happen to good people because other people decide to willingly inflict hurt, and nothing really makes that ache better. Why, one might even argue that bad things seem to mostly happen to good people.

Well, at least waiting was the only thing that happened to me. It just reminded me that things would never really change. Maybe I was a little disappointed at first, but I'm strangely okay with it now. I don't need a phone call or a token of your affection to know that I'm worth my weight in gold. I don't know what you look like or who you are, but I'm still here, Dad. There's really no use in dwelling in the negatives, so I am simply going to be thankful for my life and everything that has happened to make me the person I am today, laziness and all. Your absence is one of those things, I suppose.

Now, what should I say to the man who left everything behind?

I feel like saying that I don't need financial support would be a good start. I know some men are, like, completely terrified of their bank accounts being drained by some kid they accidently shot out. Mum has a steady (and more than generous), income, and my brother and I work during the summer to add to our savings. It's just something to do during school breaks, really. Mum never really pushed us to pick up extra income but staying at home doing nothing seemed like a waste of time. So, we take up jobs whenever we can, and what we earn we get to keep. I mean, mum still manages my account. I have little to no self-control, and I am absolutely awful at not treating myself. Sorry, not sorry!

If you're worried about my spending habits, don't. I'll stop when I get a proper job, I swear on these new boots that I probably really shouldn't have gotten. Uh, so, yeah. The reason why you shouldn't worry is because I am currently being pursued by some interested parties in the Quidditch world. *insert expletive of choice* yeah! It is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I am really excited about getting to play professionally. I managed to impress people who have been in the business for a very long time, and that is something to be proud of, dad. Yeah, mum's connections might've helped nudge them in my direction, but the skills are all mine. If I play my cards right, I might be able to land a job that will set me for life in a few years' time.

Secondly- wait, should this be the second bit? Maybe this was more important than the money thing. Okay, let's pretend that this was the first thing I said:

I honestly want you to know that I'm not chastising you for the decisions you made as a teen. You and mum were both so young, and babies are so needy and exhausting. I can barely take care of myself right now, to be honest. If I somehow ended up with an unplanned pregnancy, it would most definitely derail my entire life. While it's not fair that mom had to step up and take over both roles, I can sort of understand why the thought of parenthood made you so nervous that you just decided to step away from it all.

I wish I had this long, interesting list of things to ask you, but I don't. I should've probably sat down and made said list long before the due date arrived. Eh. I would've lost it somewhere or left it unfinished, anyways. I could crack some jokes to make the letter seem longer than it is, but I think Mrs. Fawcett has some sort of enchantment to check for troubling things inside these letters, and that one tasteless fire joke is all I'm going to be able to squeeze through without setting off homicidal vibes. Again, not a pyromaniac. Or a serial killer. Or even a one-time killer. I generally enjoy other human beings, preferably dipped in oil, and with a slightly crunch to them.

Quick change of topic to celebrate a perfect joke? Yeah, I think it's about time.

Dad, I hope you have settled down since the whole incident with mum. I hope you found yourself a lovely woman, that you treat her like a queen, and are doing well. I hope you had beautiful babies together, and that you shower them with constant love and attention. They deserve that much from you, Dad. It's important to make your family feel loved and valued. I hope that you've put all your fears of commitment and family behind you, and that you've become the sort of man Mum once thought you to be.

You know what surprised me?

I really didn't think this letter would be difficult to write, but it's been a challenge. Not because it triggered weird feelings of abandonment or anything, but because I'm not quite sure what it is that I'm supposed to feel for you. I'm unquestionably loved by my parents. I mean, I didn't even know my stepfather wasn't my biological father until my mother told me on the week of my tenth birthday. He's just brilliant, really. He's honestly the best dad a girl can ask for, and he's been by my side since I was in nappies. He filled your shoes like champion, Dad. I never felt abandoned.

It's irritating, really, how confused I am about this. I feel like I should at least show some sort of outward trauma about the fact that my father didn't want anything to do with me, but…I really don't. At least I'm not alone there. There are dozens of kids inside Hogwarts who are going through the motions as well. It's not just the by-blows from bad relationships, either. It's the kids who never hear or saw one parent after an ugly divorce. It's the kids who lost one or both parents in the war. It the kids who were born out of the terrifying events from the war that their mothers don't want to talk about. A little lost and missing something most others students have, we huddled together. Strength in numbers, right?

We eventually called ourselves 'The Undaunted'. The conception of the group undid the rivalry between our houses, and forged friendships that would have otherwise been unlikely. The older students mentor the younger ones, and we get to encourage and accompany those who would be ostracized because of their inception. It doesn't matter if it all started out as false bravado, it's actually made a difference in the lives of so many kids that it is a little intimidating.

I'm part of the smaller group of Undaunted, the ones who aren't really overmuch affected by our unfortunate beginnings. The others, they try to pretend that they don't care, that losing someone was actually a boon, but you can tell it's a load of rubbish. It's hard to describe what's wrong with them. There's just this vast emptiness in their eyes…It's like a tangible void. They can't fill it, no matter how hard they try. And they don't get better with age, either. Like a bludger with no target, they just dart around aimlessly, lashing angrily at anything in their path.

It's heartbreaking to watch. And it's scary to think that I could've been one of them. I could have been just as lost. My brother, who seethes in silence when he thinks no one is watching, could've been one of them. His fury is cool, but productive. I can't say the same for some of our comrades. The Undaunted are a decidedly broken lot. And, like it or not, I guess I'm a little broken, too.

I can't help but to wonder what you would've thought of this. Who knows, maybe you're well-versed in the subject. It would make sense if you were. But would you really allow the cycle of neglect to repeat itself? I don't think you'd want your children to go through the same thing. You'd try to be better than your parents, right? You can't possibly be THAT awful.

My mother is way too clever to risk having kids with some random idiot she plucked from around the castle. The woman has some ridiculously daunting standards when it comes to the men in her life, too. I don't know if it's because you left a less-than-pleasant taste in her mouth and she stepped up her dating game, but she most certainly doesn't settle. The men we've met have been well educated, kind and charming. Were you the same? Or maybe you are the complete opposite of what she looks for in partners now. Were you too dashing to resist, then? Or did the eyes I inherited wear her down to the point of reckless abandon?

What else did I get from you, Dad? My eyes, obviously, but what about your hair? Does it have the same strange growth patterns that mine has? What color is it? What about the texture? Do I have your skin tone or is my color a combination of mum and yours? Are the women in your family as tall as I am, or am I just weirdly lanky? What about my lip color? Am I anything like the people from your side of the family, or am I all mum, down to the freckles on my nose?

Asking this is kind of funny, because I used to not care about any of this. Now that I'm actually writing it, it's all I can think about.

This not-relationship between us feels like a pair of shackled with no keys. I'll never rid myself of it, will I? It would be so much easier on me if my story wasn't so horrendously cliché. I want to be special, I do, but I'm really just the product of a girl who thought that she had found true love with some immature leech, and she didn't realize she'd made a mistake until it was too late. It's so stupid and unoriginal that barely anyone cares about kids like me anymore. I don't think I've ever been shunned for being a by-blow. At least I'm not stigmatized, I suppose.

Does that make you feel better, Dad? Do you sleep better at night knowing that bustards are accepted- expected, even- in today's society? Do you not feel guilty about leaving us because of that? Because, guess what, it really doesn't help me feel better. Acceptance just means my life is slightly more tolerable as a bastard now than it would've been years ago. And acceptable doesn't fill the void that you left in my mother or my brother when they realized they weren't a good enough for you to stay. You should've been there for us, okay?

I know people say that you can't miss what you never had, but those people can get fucked. Only now do I realize that I did miss you. My brother and I missed you when we babbled our first words. We missed you when we took out first steps. We missed when mum had to juggle the two of us while teaching us how to ride our brooms. I never got to figure out what I wanted from a relationship by watching you and mum. You weren't there to patch my brother up when he sliced his cheek while shaving for the first time. We missed you a thousand times over and we didn't even realize it. The man I called my father was not my father, just an honorable man with enough space in his heart to claim us after our real father abandoned us.

I don't want to devalue everything my stepfather has done for me by claiming it wasn't enough for me. He is the most amazing man I know, and I wouldn't have my sister if he and mum hadn't met. I love my family, but I missed you. You weren't there to see me off when I left for Hogwarts. I didn't write to you when I felt both elated and afraid after I got sorted into Ravenclaw. Some fathers wept as they watched the Hogwarts express fade into the distance, and you weren't even there to wave us goodbye. Dad, we looked at these families as they hugged their children and realized at eleven years old that, wow, we were never going to have that. I'm not too proud to admit that it stings when I think about it.

Doe you even care that another man holds your title? That mum managed to replace you after you threw her life into disarray? Maybe you don't. Maybe you never wanted to teach us how to ride our brooms or help mend the cuts left behind by a clumsy first attempt at shaving. But you should at least feel something when you finally realize that the seeds you planted by accident during your youth managed to sprout without your attention. We're here and doing well without you.

This would probably be confusing for you. It's a little confusing for me, too. I have all these questions and no one to answer them. But maybe that's not a bad thing. I might not like what you have to say about me.

That doesn't change the fact that your actions had consequences. What happened after you and mum got together dictated how I would eventually turn out. If something had changed, I wouldn't be the person I now am if you had stayed. Thank you for that. Because maybe you weren't ready to settle down and play the part, and I could've grown up in a miserable home. Because maybe you had all sorts of deep-rooted issues and decided that letting go of mum was what was best for everyone involved. And I don't know if all of this is really true, but it might be. If it is, I'm proud of you, Dad. By sacrificing your place in our lives, you gave us the gift of a stable, loving home.

I've spent so much time on this letter that it almost feels like a waste to burn it.

What would happen if I actually sent you this letter? I'm curious. Would the owl be able to find you, even if I don't know who you are? Would you take a minute of your time to read it? Would you toss it out once you realized what it means? Merlin knowns how your new family would react if they found out you have two nameless savages running around. I, however, want to believe that you'd keep the letter somewhere safe. Always on your person, close to your heart. Maybe the letter would make you feel a little closer to the family you never got to keep. You wouldn't have to reply, honest. I just wanted you to know that you did good. It doesn't matter if it was an accident, you helped us become a family. Take credit for this and be at peace, Dad.

I don't want you to let what you did eat at your conscious. Mum is successful on her own. Believe me when I say that she enjoys the perks that came with the freedom you gave her. And I bet you're much happier, too. Isn't that better than being hit with the old ball and chain at sixteen? Fifteen years have passed since you parted ways. There are no walls to break down, no burnt bridges to mend. Feel free to just slide comfortably back into the routine you have with your new family. We've made it this far without your help, and we'll continue to exceed expectations on our own.

I might've been a bit peeved earlier, but I promise I'm not bitter. Not anymore. Being angry at you would almost feel like being angry at mum. It's not your fault things ended the way they did. You both made your choices. I love my mother and everything she has done for me. I wouldn't be who I am had she decided to pursue the relationship after it first collapsed; and I really, really like who I am. I guess this means I love you a little, too. Well, since I might love you a little and we seem to be happy, maybe we should leave it at that. You stay with your new family, and I'll stay with mine. We don't have to bother ourselves with apologies or make up for lost time. Our lives will go on unchanged, Dad.

I'll end this letter by saying that I can't change the things- both good and bad- that I've inherited from you. I will always be your daughter. I carry your legacy in my eyes. I appreciate inheriting the height, sweet tooth and reckless streak my sister doesn't seem to share. And I hope you've found happiness, Dad. Everyone deserves that much.

Warm Regards,

Your Daughter, The Undaunted.

A/N: Chapter 5 done!